To the End of the Earth and Beyond
by SassySnow1988
Summary: Snowing/Charming family fluff post 2x22. Evil Tuesday tumblr prompt for proudtobeasouper. Snow and Emma muse about what they've lost and what they still have aboard the Jolly Roger.


**To the End of the Earth and Beyond**

**A/N: **For Proudtobeasouper, Evil Tuesday Tumblr Prompt Snowing/Charming Family Ficlet. Post-2x22 "And Straight on 'Til Morning."

**Disclaimer:** I own absolutely nothing! Shameless Snowing/Charming Family Fluff ahead. The title is from _Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest_. Unbeta'd so this might _really_ suck...

**Rating: **Teen (some sensuality)

**Written While Under the Influence of:** Eric Carmen-Hungry Eyes/Hannibal mash-up.

Snow carded her fingers rhythmically through the windswept blond curls spilling across her lap, green eyes fixated on Emma's sleeping face.

Despite repeated insistences that she wasn't tired, it'd only taken Emma a grand total of thirty seconds sitting beside her on the deck of the Jolly Roger to pass out, head lolling onto Snow's shoulder. Seeing the alarm pass over Snow's face as Emma suddenly went limp, Regina had quietly offered, "Don't worry. It's just a side effect of her using so much magic. In time she'll build up endurance."

That'd allayed Snow's fears somewhat—although she'd rather Emma _not_ have to use magic so often that she'd build up anything—but what really reassured her was the genuineness on her stepmother's face. She'd offered Regina a grateful nod as the other woman disappeared below deck, likely to her own cabin to sleep. Snow had watched her go with a slight smile, seeing more of the woman who'd rescued her from that runaway horse all those years ago in the past twenty-four hours than she had in years, then gently shifted Emma into a more comfortable position on her lap, working the knots from her long blond hair with her fingers.

She couldn't help staring at her daughter's sleeping face, memorizing how peaceful she looked like this: walls down, the little frown lines between her brows—a mirror of Charming's own—smoothed, and a soft snore escaping her parted lips. This wasn't the cool, unflappable Emma that she was used to; this was a glimpse of the innocent baby Snow had held in her arms for only a few precious moments before sending her away for twenty-eight years. This was the Emma that'd finally called her Mom and clung to her in the mines with tears in her eyes. This was _her daughter_.

Her daughter stripped of all the armor she'd forged around her heart and curled up on Snow's lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. Snow's heart felt like it might burst out of her chest with the sheer joy of it all. But it was bittersweet, missing twenty-eight years of moments like this to finally have it now. Looking at Emma now, she couldn't help thinking about all the moments she'd lost.

Twenty-eight years of nightmares she didn't get to soothe away. Twenty-eight years of first words and steps, of scraped knees and fevers, of broken hearts and jail time Snow hadn't been able to hold her daughter and tell her it would all be okay through.

Tears stung her eyes and a muffled sob passed her lips, causing Emma to stir, a frown flickering across her face. Snow massaged her daughter's scalp, humming a tune she distantly remembered her own mother using to put her to sleep as a child. Emma burrowed deeper into Snow's lap, making a contented sound that had her heart skipping a beat. But Snow blinked away the tears and forced herself to focus on the present. She was here with Emma now, and that was all that mattered.

Focusing on what'd been lost instead of what remained only led to bitterness and hatred, a dark path that Snow had no desire to go down. Not anymore. She'd lost too much time with her family already to endanger even a single moment more indulging the darkness in her heart. Not when they still had to find Henry, not when Emma needed her, not when Regina had almost sacrificed herself to save them all, and not when Charming had such faith that Snow could be redeemed.

Almost as though her thoughts had conjured him, David came up the steps, expression softening the moment his eyes fell on them. Snow couldn't help but smile back as he quietly approached, keeping his tread light not to wake Emma, her dark thoughts forgotten.

"How long has she been out?" he whispered, kneeling down beside her, blue eyes tracing Emma's sleeping face just as hers had been.

"Maybe twenty minutes," Snow replied, gazing down at their daughter, fingers still combing through blond curls.

The two of them sat a moment longer, silently watching Emma sleep, until David spoke up, "I've got a cabin for all of us ready below."

Snow didn't want to break the moment, or risk waking Emma by moving her, but a bed—even one on Captain Hook's ship—would definitely be better than spending the night on wooden planks. She nodded and watched, heart in her throat, as her husband gently hooked one arm under Emma's knees and the other under her shoulders then lifted her into his arms. Their daughter was a grown woman now, but he still held her as carefully as he had when she was a newborn, Snow's heart breaking a little at the sight.

Emma stirred slightly and he froze, but she merely turned into his chest, fingers curling into his jacket and murmuring something unintelligible.

"It's okay, princess. I've got you," David whispered into her hair as he started down the stairs; Snow followed close behind, wiping tears from her cheeks.

She had herself mostly under control by the time they entered the cabin David indicated. He carried Emma over to one of the cots mounted on the wall and slowly lowered her onto the mattress, having to physically pry her fingers from his jacket.

"_Neal_," Emma whimpered when he pulled away, brow wrinkled.

Snow and David both started at the name, exchanging a knowing and sad glance. Snow moved to the overstuffed backpack sitting on the cot mounted on the opposite wall and dug through it, pulling free a familiar folded white quilt. She hurried over to Emma and tucked it in around her, watching as her daughter tugged the lip of it to her chin—a mirror of her mother's—expression immediately smoothing. Snow brushed Emma's hair back from her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Goodnight, Emma."

She turned around to find her husband staring at her with a smile quirking his lips. "What?" she whispered, her own lips curling upward.

"The world was falling apart around us and you still remembered Emma's blanket." His voice cracked on the last word and Snow could hear the awe in it.

"Well, Emma was busy trying to save us, and you were tracking down Tamara and Greg, so I grabbed a few things that I knew everyone wouldn't want left—"

David was across the room and cupping her face in his hands in two long strides, lips pressing to hers and cutting off her explanation. "I love you, you know that?"

She tilted her head to the side, biting down on her lower lip as she grinned up at him. "You might've mentioned that once or twice."

He chuckled and kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her, her own hands curling around his collar to draw him closer, but just as he was teasing her mouth open she pulled away. "What?" David blinked at her dazedly.

"You know exactly what. _No_ distracting me from the fact that you were shot today." Snow narrowed her eyes at him and returned to her backpack, digging through it again.

He sighed, propping his hands on his hips. "I was _grazed_. It's barely a scratch and it doesn't even hurt," David argued, a note of almost boyish petulance entering his voice.

"Was there blood?" she shot back, shoving her arms all the way to her shoulders into the bag.

"Yes, but—"

"No, buts. I'm at least going to clean it." Snow turned to him, triumphantly holding a first-aid kit in her hands.

"That's not really necessary—"

"It isn't until you get a very manly infection because you didn't let me clean it and we're stuck in Neverland with no antibiotics."

"You mean you don't have half of Storybrooke General in that backpack too?" he asked, eyes wide in faux-horror.

"Ha ha," she muttered, tugging him by his good arm to the bed. "Sit. Jacket and shirt off."

"Pants too?" David smirked at her even as he began shrugging out of his jacket.

"Maybe later," Snow replied as she put the kit down on the bed and flipped it open, retrieving a bottle of alcohol. She rounded on him as he tossed his vest aside and pulled his shirt off.

"See?" He gestured to the gash on his bicep, crusted over with a small amount of blood. "It's just a scratch."

"Well, then it won't take that long to clean. So the sooner you stop whining the sooner it'll be over." She grinned at him and doused a cotton ball with the clear liquid then began cleaning away the blood.

"I don't think this is what the naughty nurse fantasy is supposed to entail," David countered with a raised eyebrow.

She pressed a little harder than necessary on the cut, smiling when he winced. "Bad patients don't get naughty nurses. Now stop flirting and let me work," Snow shot back, retreating to the box before he could make a grab for her. She snagged a package of bandages and pulled one out, smoothing it over the wound. "There." Snow planted her hands on her hips with a satisfied nod.

"Isn't there supposed to be a kiss too?"

She rolled her eyes but reached for his arm anyway; instead David caught her wrist and tugged her onto his lap, kissing her. Snow relaxed into him, the tension of the day flowing out of her as his lips and tongue caressed hers and his hands smoothed over her torso, eventually untying the belt of her jacket and easing it from her shoulders. His hands snuck under her shirt, massaging the small of her back and drawing a moan from her. The couple remained in place a bit longer but kept things chaste for Emma's sake. No need for her to see _that_ again.

Snow's eyes were heavy-lidded when she finally pulled away, stroking her fingertips fondly down her husband's face. "I'm pretty sure that's not how kiss and make it better works, Charming."

"I feel better, so I'm just going to run with it," he replied with a grin.

She chuckled and pressed another kiss to his lips, then shifted to snuggle into his good shoulder. Their own exhaustion eventually caught up to them and they settled down onto the cot, drawing a blanket over themselves and turning so they both could watch Emma. Snow tangled her fingers with his when he enfolded her in his arms, green eyes on Emma.

"She called us Mom and Dad, Charming," Snow breathed, awe and tears in her voice.

"I know," he whispered into her neck, sounding just as effected by it as she still was.

She squeezed his hands a little tighter, nestling into the warmth of his chest. The feel of him wrapped around her soothed her more than anything else.

It was such a simple thing for their daughter to do, to call them Mom and Dad, but for Emma to finally acknowledge out loud that they were her parents... Snow felt like her entire world had spun backwards, or maybe it'd finally begun turning the way it'd always supposed to be. Now they just had to find the final piece of their family and begin again. Be a real family, with all their different parts intact.

And although Snow didn't allow herself to consciously think it, there were a few more parts to that puzzle now.

"I love you, Charming," she murmured as her eyes fluttered shut.

"And I love you, Snow. Always." David pressed a kiss to her neck and a moment later she could feel his breath begin to even out with hers.

XXX

Emma jolted awake, the sensation of being in an unfamiliar place making her heart bang painfully into her ribs, but then her eyes settled on the bed opposite her and she calmed. Snow and David—Mom and Dad, she thought, the words equally terrifying yet oh-so-tempting in her mind—were curled up together under the sheets, blessedly clothed this time. She could feel the smile curving her lips just at the sight of them.

Even with everything she'd lost—Neal, Henry, Storybrooke—they were the one constant. Ever since they'd come into her life again they had jumped across worlds, faced death, magic and curses to stay by her side.

_Her parents_.

They loved her. And how she loved them in return. Loved them so much she was terrified to ever say it out loud, scared that whatever force had seen fit to rip everything else away from her all her life would take them too. But when she'd thought they were all about to die in those mines, Emma knew she couldn't die without saying it at least once.

The smile faded from her face as the gaping holes in her heart caught up to her.

_Neal. Henry._

One was lost to her but the other there was still hope for.

And for the first time in her life Emma found she _had_ hope. Because looking at her parents, at the true love that almost glowed around them—the love that'd broken curses and crossed worlds and given her magic strong enough to stop their world from ending—she knew they'd never stop looking for Henry. They would sail to the end of the Earth and beyond, brave every danger in this world and the next and the next for their family.

They would always find each other. And her. And Henry.

Of this, Emma Swan had faith.

Thanks for reading!

SassySnow1988


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